


To Destroy a Ring

by madi_solo



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Baggins, F/M, Fantasy, Fluff, Frodo - Freeform, Hobbit, LOTR, Lord of the Rings, OC, Original Character - Freeform, Romance, amaryllis - Freeform, lily - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 21:49:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 14,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7455148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madi_solo/pseuds/madi_solo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lily always dreamed of going on an adventure, but she never expected it to happen like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic loosely follows the narrative of The War of the Ring, drawing inspiration from both the book and the films.

Amaryllis was her name, and a fitting one it was, for her head-full of untamed curls rivaled the scarlet petals of her namesake that bloomed each spring. Wild was her spirit, which drew daily frowns of disapproval from her fellow Hobbits. “Uncivilized,” murmured some. “Loopy,” muttered others. Despite this reputation, Amaryllis, or “Lily”, as she insisted upon being called, enjoyed the company of four close friends whom she had known since childhood. The closest of these was Frodo, who shared her desire for adventure more intensely than all the others. 

In their youth, they wandered over hill and under tree, even joining Merry and Pippin on their quests to “borrow” mushrooms from Farmer Maggot. When he was twenty-one, Frodo, who had been orphaned at the age of twelve, was taken in by his uncle, Bilbo Baggins, and moved from Brandy Hall in Buckland to Bag End in Hobbiton. Lily had received this news with a great deal of joy, for she and her family, the Noakes, had always called Hobbiton home, as far back as they could recall, anyway. However, the idea of Frodo living “just around the bend”, as it were, contributed to only a portion of her excitement. The rest consisted of her now having an excuse to visit Bag End whenever she liked and to hear Bilbo’s legendary tales firsthand. 

Always, she had been utterly fascinated by Frodo’s retellings of his uncle’s journey beyond the Shire. These stories conjured fantastic images of Elves, Dwarves, and Dragons in her already imaginative mind, much to the dismay of her working class, rather content, and altogether ordinary family. Her older brother Burley was the one her parents were truly proud of. He had “stayed along the straight and narrow”, as her father often said, becoming a carpenter and carrying on the family trade. 

Lily, on the other hand, often left the house after breakfast and would return home just in time for dinner. “Off chasing fairytales again?” Burley would scoff whenever she came through the front door. “That Frodo boy has caused nothing but trouble for us,” her father would grumble. One particular evening, she had endured enough of their scolding, and she tore out of the house—without having had her supper. This was unheard of behavior for a Hobbit, but for Lily, there were more important things than food.

Down the path she flew, past Bagshot Row and off into the grassy meadows beyond. She veered sharply off the road and took shelter beneath the trees, taking care to avoid the well-tended fields of her neighbors. Having at last achieved the solitude she had so desperately been seeking, Lily fell to her knees and began to cry. However, unbeknownst to her, her passing below Bag End had not gone unnoticed. 

She had not been there long when she became aware of the quietest of footsteps approaching. Her finely-tuned sense of hearing perceived rhythmic rustling of the grass and the light breaths of someone directly behind her. Startled, Lily sprang to her feet and spun to face the intruder. 

“Frodo!” she exclaimed, relieved and angry all at once. “What were you doing, sneaking up on me like that?”

“I had just returned to Bag End when I saw you,” he answered calmly, though his eyes, round and of the purest shade of blue, were filled with concern. “What’s wrong, Lily? Has something happened?”

Hastily, she wiped the tears from her freckled cheeks and shook her head. “I’m all right.”

Her forced smile could not fool him, and he cocked an eyebrow, folding his arms expectantly over his chest. With a sigh, she looked down and began dusting off her skirt, avoiding his gaze. 

“Don’t concern yourself, Frodo. It’s nothing more than the usual.”

“Is it something Burley said?” he inquired. 

Huffing, she straightened. “Burley, my father, even my mother. I don’t know what to do, Frodo. They just—they don’t understand.”

“They’ll come around,” he assured her, “one day.”

“No, I don’t think they will, Frodo. I don’t have a family of Bagginses or Brandybucks. When I speak of adventure, they behave as if I have summoned a curse to descend upon them.” 

“I understand,” he admitted. “You and I are seen as very much the same by most of Hobbiton.” 

“But you don’t,” she responded in a trembling voice. “You don’t understand. You have Bilbo.” 

“And you have me,” he replied with an encouraging smile. 

Her spirits lifted, and he went on. 

“Cheer up, Lily! Remember, the Big Party is in only three days!” 

Of course! How could she forget the largest gathering of the century? It was the celebration of Bilbo’s eleventy-first birthday, as well as Frodo’s coming-of-age party, and was likely to be the talk of the Shire for generations to come. 

“You’re right,” she said, brightening. “How silly of me to be fretting over a trifle like this!” 

Together, they returned home, talking and laughing all the while. When they reached the end of Bagshot Row, they were forced to part ways, which they did with a merry wave. After all, they would be seeing each other again tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

Tents were raised. Tables and chairs were built and positioned accordingly. Lights dangled from the limbs of trees. Banners were unfurled, all reading ‘Happy Birthday, Bilbo!’ or ‘Happy Birthday, Frodo!’ September 22nd had arrived at last, the day of the Big Party, and all of Hobbiton, it seemed, had gathered in the field across from Bag End. The weather was fair, the company pleasing, and the food satisfying. From noon until long after dusk, the festivities continued. 

Lily had chosen to wear her only dress that was not covered in dirt and grass stains or ripped in some place or another. Her curls had been partially tamed and pulled back from her face, and she grinned from ear to ear as she, Merry, and Pippin observed Gandalf the Wizard’s spectacular array of fireworks. They burst, shimmered, and crackled in a rainbow of colors, taking on various forms and soaring high overhead. A cluster of golden butterflies fluttered by, followed by a group of mesmerized Hobbit children. 

“He seems to have left the wagon temporarily unattended,” Pippin mentioned casually, a twinkle in his eye. 

“What a fortuitous opportunity,” Merry replied, smirking mischievously. “What do you think, Lily?”

He looked at her expectantly, but it took her only a moment to decide that this was a bad idea. 

“I won’t be caught dead stealing from a wizard,” she declared. 

Surprised by her rare case of superstition, he shrugged. “Suit yourself. C’mon, Pip.”

Together, they hopped up from the bench where they were sitting, and Lily sighed anxiously. She could not bear to watch this disaster unfold. Always, she had held Gandalf in tremendously high regard, and she dreaded to see what would happen if he became angry. 

“Fair lady!”

She turned at the sound of Frodo’s jovial call. He approached her with a confident grin and politely extended his hand. 

“May I have this dance?” 

Smiling, Lily placed her hand in his without hesitation. Never did they allow a festive occasion to pass them by without sharing a dance together, so off they went, leaping, bounding, and spinning through the crowd of dancing hobbits. With the sounds of the flutes, drums, and Frodo’s laugh ringing in her ears, Lily soon forgot all about Merry and Pippin. However, it did not take long for their blissful fun to be interrupted. 

There came an explosion and a burst of light from a nearby tent, followed by a shrill cry of alarm. To the amazement of all the guests, the tent shot upward, swiftly disintegrating as one of Gandalf’s fireworks took flight. A pair of great wings unfurled, and the dragon roared as it turned and began to dive toward them. Standing frozen in place, Lily’s eyes were wide, hobbits fleeing on either side of her in an attempt to escape the fierce creature. 

“Come on!” Frodo cried, grabbing her hand and pulling her along. 

The dragon swooped low, and they ducked, falling into the grass. Lying flat on her stomach, Lily raised her eyes to the sky and looked on in wonder as the dragon burst over Bywater. Flashes of red, gold, and white lit up the night, and everyone cheered. She and Frodo looked at one another with mutually excited grins before laughing at the unexpected but rather thrilling turn of events. 

“That was supposed to be saved for later,” he remarked thoughtfully as the applause began to die down. “I wonder what happened?”

She smirked. “I’ll give you a hint. It involved a Brandybuck and a Took.”

He closed his eyes with a knowing sigh. “Of course it did.” 

Standing, Frodo dusted himself off, and she did the same. 

“That will be the signal for supper then, though a little early,” he said. 

Together, they made for the tent that was higher and longer than all the others. It had been reserved especially for Bilbo and Frodo’s one hundred and forty-four relatives and special guests, of which Lily was one. 

“I wonder what has become of Merry and Pippin?” she mused, glancing distractedly over her shoulder. 

“Nothing pleasant, I’m sure, if they were caught.” 

He did not seem to be too concerned about Gandalf’s response to the hobbits’ mischief, however, which provided her with some small bit of comfort. It was not that she doubted the well-meaning nature of the old wizard, but magic was an entirely foreign subject to her. The bits and pieces she had been told over the years were not at all comparable to personal experience, and though she hated to admit it, Lily was somewhat unsettled by the very idea of it.

These concerns became far removed from her thoughts once they sat down and began to enjoy another hearty meal. After this, she knew, Bilbo would be giving his highly anticipated speech, and she could only wonder at what he might say.


	3. Chapter 3

“Speech! Speech!” they cried as Bilbo took his place in front of the merry gathering. Smiling and chuckling, he quieted them with a wave of his hands, and they waited in anxious silence for him to begin. He took a deep breath, his hands slipping into his coat pockets.

“My dear Bagginses and Boffins,” the old hobbit started off cheerfully, “Tooks and Brandybucks, Grubbs, Chubbs, Hornblowers, Bolgers, Bracegirdles, and Proudfoots—"

Everyone cheered enthusiastically, but Bilbo was interrupted by a stubborn “Proudfeet!” that came from somewhere in the midst of the crowd. He dismissed the correction casually, and Lily giggled as he went on. 

“Today is my one hundred and eleventh birthday!”

“Happy Birthday!” they cried, lifting their mugs. 

“Alas, eleventy-one years is far too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable hobbits. I don’t know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.”

The cheers and “hoorays" suddenly went silent, and the hobbits looked at one another with blank expressions, trying to discern whether or not they had just been insulted. Frodo and Lily shared an amused glance as Bilbo continued. 

“I, uh, I h-have things to do.” He was fidgeting and muttering strangely to himself, causing the crowd to became even more put-off. What was he rambling on about, anyway?

Lily’s smile faded, and she looked to Frodo, but even he was watching his uncle with uncertainty. 

“I regret to announce—this is the end. I am going now. I bid you all a very fond farewell. Goodbye.”

Poof! He was gone, simply vanished, and there was an audible gasp. Everyone began whispering amongst themselves, and no one seemed quite sure what to do. Lily’s eyes were wide and glued to the spot where Bilbo had vanished, her lips parted in shock. 

“Frodo…is this…some sort of prank?”

He stood suddenly, distracted and distant. She glanced at him worriedly as Samwise Gamgee came running up to them, huffing and puffing. 

“What was that all about?!” he exclaimed, pausing when he saw his friend's troubled expression. “Frodo?”

“He talked for so long of leaving...I never believed he would really do it,” murmured Frodo, half to himself. 

“If you mean to follow him, you must hurry,” said Lily. 

“No…no,” he objected, his voice becoming stronger the second time. “I cannot simply abandon all of our guests. I must see them off and-and thank them for coming.”

Lily and Sam shared a glance of concern as he hurried off. Bilbo’s disappearance had brought the party to a rather abrupt and unexpected end, and everyone seemed out of sorts. Hobbits were leaving in droves. 

“It’s not natural, vanishin’ like that,” said Sam.

“I’m sure there’s some sort of explanation,” she replied, her gaze moving over the rapidly dissipating crowd. She was further unsettled by the fact that Gandalf was nowhere to be seen. 

“What happened?! Where’s everyone going?!”

They turned to see Merry and Pippin running up to them, their faces smudged with smoke and their curly hair sticking in wild directions. 

“Gandalf had us cleaning dishes,” said Merry.

“I looked down for half a moment, and when I looked up, Bilbo was gone!” added Pippin. 

“We don’t know,” Lily replied, stealing a glance at Frodo, who was thanking guests and then sending them on their way. “One moment, he was there, and the next—gone.”

Pippin scrunched his nose and scratched his head, and Merry had a thoughtful look in his eye. 

“Come on, Lily! We’re leaving.”

Turning at the sound of her brother’s stern voice, she frowned. “Burley, I’m in the middle of a—”

“Not anymore, you’re not. Father sent me to fetch you. It’s time to go.”

She felt her face heat up with anger as she regretfully said good night to her friends and followed him to the nearby gate, where their parents were impatiently waiting. When her family’s turn came, Frodo politely addressed them, but he received only a “hmph” in return and a glare from Burley as they passed. Lily was last, and she made the best silent apology she could manage. Frodo gave her a reassuring smile, and then she departed.

As they returned home, Lily was deep in thought, wondering what had become of Bilbo, how he had vanished, and if the Shire was ever going to be the same after this.


	4. Chapter 4

As it turned out, Bilbo's disappearance was not a prank, Gandalf had slipped quietly out of the Shire sometime during the night, and ownership of Bag End had now been passed on to Frodo. All of Hobbiton was talking about it, and the Sackville-Bagginses were outraged at being “cheated”. What they perceived as injustice, however, Lily thought perfectly fair. After all, they had never displayed any real fondness for their relative, only his possessions. 

Frodo spent much of the next day giving away everything Bilbo had assigned a name to; therefore, it was not until the day after that when Lily was invited over for afternoon tea. The round green door swung open, and Frodo greeted her with a relieved smile. 

“Lily! Come in!”

She entered, half expecting Bilbo to come trotting around the corner with some old map or trinket in his hands. But alas, he had gone, taking many of the maps and manuscripts with him. Bag End felt strangely empty, despite the fact that he had left the furniture and most of his other belongings behind. 

“Everything go well yesterday?” she inquired as Frodo closed the door behind her. 

“As well as can be expected when the Sackville-Bagginses are involved,” he replied, leading her into the kitchen. 

“Not well at all then, I take it.”

Sunlight poured into the cozy little room through a circular window on her left as Lily sat down at the table.

“I am glad that it is over,” he said, taking the kettle and pouring both of them a cup of tea. “It was maddening. They explored at leisure, tried to leave with things that didn’t belong to them—if Merry hadn’t come, I don’t know that I would’ve survived it.” 

“I am sorry that I couldn’t be here. I wanted to come, but my father—”

“I know,” Frodo interrupted kindly. 

There was genuine sympathy in his eyes, and she found that her gaze had shifted down to the table’s wooden surface. “I didn’t tell them where I was going. Ever since the party, they become agitated if I do so much as mention your name.”

He shifted uncomfortably, and she glanced up at him. 

“Frodo, what happened? Where has Bilbo gone, and why did Gandalf leave so suddenly?”

Swallowing, he averted his gaze. “I don’t know.”

There was a pause, during which she stared at him incredulously. “You don’t know?”

“Bilbo has gone to stay with the Elves, but I know not where,” he explained. “Gandalf…was behaving rather strangely before he left. It seemed urgent, but he did not tell me where he was going.”

“The affairs of wizards are always strange to me,” Lily remarked, sipping her tea. 

“Gandalf has never given me a reason not to trust him.”

Realizing her mistake, she swiftly moved to correct it. “I’m sorry, Frodo. I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I just—the last couple of days have been very peculiar, and I’m not sure what to make of it.”

“It’s all right,” he said, falling silent as he sank deep into thought. 

He was hiding something, no doubt, which came as a great surprise to her. Never had there been any secrets between them, but something was different this time. He had given her just enough information to satisfy her curiosity, but Lily knew that there must be more to the story. She did not press him further, however, deciding that he would tell her the rest when he was good and ready. 

“Oh! I nearly forgot!” Frodo exclaimed suddenly, springing up from the table. “There is a reason that I invited you for tea today.” 

“You mean to tell me that it isn’t simply because you enjoy my company?” she replied good-naturedly. 

Stopping in the doorway, he looked back at her and smiled. “You know that I do.”

Lily followed him back into the entrance hall and then waited while he disappeared into another room. Moments later, he returned with a small, leather-bound book in his hands.

“Bilbo meant for you to have this,” said Frodo, holding it out to her. “It holds some of the tales he heard while in Rivendell, translated from Elvish into Common Speech.”

Speechless, she accepted it with trembling fingers. “I—this is—I don’t know what to say.”

“He knew how much you enjoyed listening to his stories whenever he had a mind to tell them. ‘That girl has the spirit of adventure,’ he used to say. He was quite fond of you.”

Unexpectedly and against her will, Lily felt tears welling up in her eyes. “The Shire will never be the same without him. I miss him dearly already.” 

Instinctively, Frodo took her in his arms, and she let him, biting her lip to keep a sob from escaping her throat. Instead, silent tears fell down her freckled cheeks.

“So do I,” he said quietly.


	5. Chapter 5

It was not long before Hobbiton returned to its usual comings and goings. Talk of Bilbo and his mysterious disappearance lessened in frequency, replaced by rumors of strange folk wandering just beyond the borders of the Shire. However, these whispers were reserved for secluded corners of The Green Dragon and were not included in regular conversation. Gandalf had not been seen in the Shire since September 22nd, the night of the Big Party, and even Frodo was beginning to wonder if he was ever coming back.

Lily could not deny that she was glad things were getting back to normal, and yet, a small part of her was disappointed. After all, Bilbo had gone to visit the Elves. Why couldn’t she? Surely the world outside the Shire could not be as frightening and dangerous as most hobbits claimed? Alas, she was forced to settle for the tales contained in Bilbo’s writings, which at least succeeded in carrying her far away to an imaginary place. There, she could have adventures of her own, even if they were not real.

Often, Frodo would accompany her, as he always had, telling her all he knew about Elves, their history, and their language.

One particular afternoon, they lay on their backs in the midst of a sunny meadow, side by side as they gazed up into a clear blue sky that was dotted with white puffy clouds. Lily was quiet but thoughtful, while his eyes were drifting lazily closed. A single question was burning in her mind, and she could not resist saying it any longer. 

“Frodo?”

“Mm?” he grunted in reply.

“Do you think we’ll ever go on an adventure?”

His eyes flickered open, and he looked at her. “What makes you say that?”

“Well,” she began hesitantly, “when we were younger, I always told myself, ‘one day, it will happen’, but it never did. And now, now all I can think is: ‘If not now—when?’"

He raised himself onto his elbow, brows furrowed in concern. “What about your family?”

“I’m ready to leave.”

“What about Sam, Merry, Pippin?”

“They can come with us.”

He opened his mouth to resist once more, but Lily sat up with an exasperated sigh.

“You’re making excuses, Frodo!”

He blinked, struggling to come up with a sufficient response. “It was different when we were kids.”

“How?” she pressed. “You’ve never said that before. You never behaved this way before Bilbo left.”

There was a tense pause during which neither of them spoke or moved. Finally, Frodo sat up, but he would not look at her, instead staring directly ahead at the line of trees beyond the meadow. 

“I can’t go,” he said quietly, “not yet.”

“Why not?” Frowning, she gently took hold of his arm, imploring him to look her in the eye. “Frodo, what’s going on? What did Gandalf say to you? I know he said something.”

At last, he met her gaze, his own wrought with conflict and uncertainty. Slowly, he shook his head, his eyes betraying his remorse. “I can’t. I’m sorry, Lily.”

She watched helplessly as he stood and walked away, retracing the path that would lead him back to Hobbiton. She did not understand. What strange spell had come over him and snuffed out his heart’s desire? What secret was so dark and so dire that he could not bring himself to tell her? Did he no longer trust her? Had he ever really trusted her?

These questions and others that Lily had never before considered plagued her mind as she made the short journey home. Her trust in him was shaken, and that terrified her. Never had he given her reason to doubt that he was being honest with her, nor she him, and that mutual trust had always been the foundation of their friendship. What could the wizard possibly have said to break it? Of course, there was the chance that she was entirely wrong in accusing Gandalf of causing this new inexplicable rift between her and Frodo. But she doubted it. 

As she walked in silence with nothing but the sound of the wind whispering through the trees and the grass rustling beneath her feet, Lily became intensely aware of the fact that she was alone. With that knowledge came a rush of sudden, intense fear, fear that he would abandon her, that they would all abandon her, that she would be left with no family and no friends to drive out her loneliness. Harshly and swiftly, she scolded herself for these thoughts, which she deemed thoroughly irrational. 

“He wouldn’t,” she told herself, though doubts were stubbornly creeping up inside her. “He wouldn’t."


	6. Chapter 6

Lily could not sleep that night. Her eyes would drift closed, only to fly open as she awoke from some unpleasant dream. Tossing and turning, she shifted restlessly for hours, staring into the dark. She failed to quiet her thoughts, which were haunted by Frodo and Bilbo and the journeys she had never made. Even the wizard with his tall, pointed hat loomed large in her mind’s eye, an ominous shadow. 

Lily waited until dawn, when she could not bring herself to lie there any longer. Rising quickly and silently, she dressed and went over to the window. Peering through the glass panes, she saw that it was a gray morning, but the sun was beginning to peek through a thick layer of clouds. It would be perfect weather for a walk, she decided. 

After tying her red curls back from her face, Lily left her bedroom and padded quietly down the hall to the kitchen. She grabbed an apple from the bowl on the table and took a large bite of it as she headed out the front door. The air was cool, the path slightly damp beneath her bare feet. There were no hobbits to be seen at this hour, no animals plowing the fields. Passing Bagshot Row, Lily could not help but glance up to the top of the hill, where Bag End sat silent.

She could not explain it, but there was a strange, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she finally forced herself to look away and continued on down the road. Normally, if it had been an hour or two later, she would have climbed the steps and knocked on its big green door, inviting Frodo to join her. But this morning, she could not convince herself to do it, not after how things had ended between them yesterday. If he wanted to see her, she told herself firmly, he would come. 

Lily passed out of Hobbiton and into the countryside, but she did not stray from the Road. With the apple now gone, she tossed its core aside and looked up at the thick canopy of trees above her. Most of the sunlight was blotted out by dense clusters of leaves, but a patch could be seen sneaking through every so often. The woods were peaceful and quiet, save the occasional song of a bird. Therefore, she was quite surprised when she heard the rustling of footsteps and murmuring voices off to her left. 

Lily paused, listening for a moment before hurrying over to the edge of the Road and peering down the hill, where tall, thick grass and heavy undergrowth covered the ground. There were three figures traveling below, but they had stopped now and were speaking in low voices. With a silent gasp, she crouched low and hid behind a group of shrubs, for the figures she saw were none other than Frodo, Sam, and Gandalf. Peeking through clumps of twigs and small branches, she saw the wizard solemnly deliver some parting words to Frodo before mounting his horse and galloping swiftly away. 

There was a walking stick in Frodo’s hand, and he and Sam both wore traveling cloaks and were carrying supplies on their backs. It did not take her long to figure out what was happening. As soon as Gandalf was out of sight, Lily sprang to her feet and plunged wildly down the hillside, unaware of the brambles scraping her arms and legs. Frodo and Sam had nearly reached the other side of the glade when she got to the bottom, and she came to a halt, huffing and puffing.

“Frodo!”

Her shrill cry echoed across the clearing, and both of them stopped. Frodo turned, his eyes wide, and hers silently pleaded for answers. 

“Lily!” he exclaimed with surprise. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

“It isn’t?” She stormed towards him. “Because it looks to me like you’re leaving and not taking me with you.” 

“You don’t understand—”

“Of course I don’t, Frodo! You haven’t explained it to me!”

Sam’s eyes darted back and forth anxiously as he watched them. 

“This is for your own good, Lily.”

“My—?” She was so flustered that she could hardly speak. “What on earth are you talking about?”

He hesitated, pressed his lips together, and then sighed. “All right, I’ll tell you, but I can’t promise that you will believe what I say.”

“Mr. Frodo—” Sam cautioned.

“She deserves to know,” he responded firmly. “I’ve kept this from her long enough.”

With a deep sigh, Frodo looked at her once more and began his tale. “The night Gandalf left, he seemed anxious about something, particularly about a certain Ring that Bilbo left in my possession. He told me to keep it a secret, and then he left. Last night, he returned bearing grave news. It is not just any ring that Bilbo gave me. It is the One Ring, forged by the Dark Lord Sauron in the land of Mordor. I have been tasked with taking it to Rivendell so that others far wiser than I can decide how to proceed, for swift action is required to destroy it.” 

He paused, observing her struggle to process his wild tale. Lily blinked slowly as she considered the gravity of the situation, which she still could not fully grasp. Still, one thing was for certain: Frodo was leaving, not just Hobbiton, but the Shire, and she was not letting him go without her. 

“I’m coming with you,” she said, and there was nothing he could say that would change her mind. 

“Lily, you can’t,” he objected immediately. “It’s too dangerous. I’m not putting you in harm’s way. If something happened to you—”

“And what if something happens to you? What if I could have done something to prevent it? Send me away, if you must, but I will follow at a distance. This is my choice, and I have made it.” 

Slowly, Frodo’s expression softened, though his brow was furrowed with worry. “I see now that there is nothing I can do to convince you otherwise. If you are indeed accompanying us to Rivendell, then there is no safer place for you than at my side. I will not have you traveling alone.” 

“It’s settled then,” she replied cheerfully. “Lead on, my valiant protector!”

He rolled his eyes at her sarcasm as they resumed their journey through the forest, walking side by side. “Very funny,” he muttered. 

Sam followed closely behind them, a knowing smile on his lips.


	7. Chapter 7

The next few days of travel were uneventful, save for a sighting of Elves passing in the night. They sang with clear, enchanting voices that rendered Lily and Sam speechless, and Frodo explained that they were traveling to the Grey Havens, where they would sail away to the Undying Lands, never to return. 

“I don’t know why,” Sam had said at length. “It makes me sad.” 

Lily did not understand why the Elves would leave Middle-earth. What was this mysterious place that lay beyond the western sea? Hours of walking and aching feet, however, soon drove these questions from her mind. Their path was at times difficult, for Frodo had said that they must travel through the countryside and not on the Road. When she inquired about it, all he would say was that the servants of the Enemy would be looking for them. 

This was enough to cause her to glance suspiciously at their surroundings quite often, even though she had no idea what she was looking for. 

They had come out of the woods now and were crossing well-tended fields, where sheaves of golden wheat enclosed them on all sides. The grain plants glowed brightly in the afternoon sun, waving gently back and forth in the breeze. Luckily, a narrow path had been cut through the crop that allowed the hobbits to pass through unimpeded. As they walked, Lily could not shake the feeling that something was jogging her memory. 

“Frodo,” she began uncertainly, “is it just my imagination, or are we getting close to Farmer Maggot’s?” 

“I think you’re right,” he replied uneasily. 

She swallowed, dreading the sound of barking dogs, which she felt was inevitable. All of them started to walk more quickly, and the wheat soon transitioned into corn. Lily wasn’t sure, but she thought that she heard a noise rising above the rustling stalks—voices and crashing footsteps. At the same moment, Sam stopped and said, “Do you hear that?”

Suddenly, two figures burst out of the sea of crops and collided with Frodo and Sam, sending them sprawling. Lily sprang back with wide eyes.

“Frodo!” cried Pippin, delighted. “Merry, it’s Frodo Baggins!”

“Hello, Frodo!” said Merry, standing quickly and regathering his assortment of stolen vegetables.

“Get off him!” Sam growled, tossing Pippin aside and pulling Frodo to his feet.

“Lily!” Pippin exclaimed, noticing her for the first time. “Help us out, would you?”

Before she knew what was happening, he was dumping carrots into her arms. As he did, they became aware of the sound of barking dogs. They were getting louder. 

“Run!” Merry cried, disappearing into the corn field. 

Pippin and Frodo were right behind him. Lily and Sam shared a glance of complete terror before dropping the vegetables Merry and Pippin had piled into their arms and taking off after them. Frantically, they bolted through the maze of green stalks, hearts racing and feet flying. 

“I don’t know why he’s so upset!” shouted Merry. "It’s only a couple of carrots!”

“And some cabbages!” Pippin yelled back at him. "And those three bags of potatoes we lifted last week! And then the mushrooms the week before!”

“Yes, Pippin! My point is, he’s clearly overreacting! Run!” Merry added urgently as they suddenly emerged from the corn field. 

Pippin stopped first, having realized that there was a drop-off, and they were at the top of a frighteningly steep incline. But it was too late. Merry ran into him, then Frodo, then Lily, then Sam, and all of them soon found themselves tumbling head over foot down the hillside. There were grunts, thuds, and the clanging of pots and pans for several long seconds. Everything was spinning, and Lily was dizzy by the time she reached the bottom. 

To her surprise, she did not make contact with solid ground but instead landed on top of one of the others. At first, she did not realize who. Out of breath, Lily pushed herself into a partially upright position and was startled to find herself staring down into Frodo’s wide blue eyes. His cheeks were rapidly turning red, and she quickly climbed off of him, mortified. She looked at the others, but they didn’t seem to have noticed and were still picking themselves up from the leaf-strewn ground. 

“It was just a detour, a shortcut!” Merry was saying, brushing dirt and grass off his coat. 

“A shortcut to what?” grumbled Sam.

“Mushrooms!” Pippin exclaimed, clambering to his feet. 

As he, Merry, and Sam scurried over and began to inspect the small cluster growing by the roadside, Frodo stood. Dusting himself off, he cast a discreet glance in Lily’s direction, only to find that she was already looking at him. Red-faced, both of them turned away, she joining the others, and he wandering further onto the Road to survey their surroundings. As she peered down at the mushrooms, however, she was not listening to a single thing her friends were saying. Their words were faded and muffled, Lily’s heart pounding inside her chest. 

There was a strange fluttering in her stomach, a warm feeling. It was different yet familiar. Unwilling to consider what it could possibly mean, she pushed it deep down and resolved to ignore it. 

“I think we should get off the Road,” Frodo called over his shoulder, but beneath its casual surface, there was a hint of anxiety in his voice. 

Lily glanced up, but the others either did not hear him or had chosen to ignore him. Returning his gaze to the deepening shadow in the distance, Frodo shivered as if a chill wind had swept over him. 

“Get off the Road—quick!” he cried, more forcefully this time.

His urgency drove them into the surrounding woods, where they took shelter in the hollow of a large tree. Pressed tightly together, they waited in silence, a mass of tangled roots forming a makeshift roof over their heads. Lily was painfully aware that she had been squeezed in next to Frodo, and she scolded herself for the heat rising to her cheeks. She shouldn’t feel so embarrassed. It was only an accident, after all.

The sound of heavy footsteps thudding and crunching the leaves above them broke into her thoughts, and she held her breath. A horse snorted, pawing the earth, and there came a strange hissing, as if someone, or something, was sniffing for them. Color seemed to be sucked out of the world around them, and all thoughts of pleasant things were forgotten. The air became cold, and Lily shuddered as insects stirred and began to crawl around her feet. 

Frightened, she looked over at the others, only to find that Frodo had taken the Ring out of his pocket and was resisting the urge to put it on his finger. She had never before laid eyes upon it, the simple band of brilliant gold, but her awe of its beauty was swiftly replaced by anger when she realized that it was forcing its own will upon Frodo. His eyes were shut, his jaw clenched, his finger drawing steadily closer to the Ring. Lily laid her hand firmly on his arm, and he snapped out of his trance. Quickly, Frodo snatched his finger away from the Ring and shoved it back into his coat pocket. 

In that instant, Merry tossed his bag of vegetables onto the Road behind them, and there was a shriek as the Rider wheeled its horse around and trotted swiftly away. They bolted from the hollow and fled in the opposite direction, disappearing into the undergrowth. They ran for some distance before pausing for breath, finally skidding to a halt amongst the thick piles of fallen leaves.

“What was that?” said Merry.

They all looked expectantly at Frodo, but he did not answer, for his gaze was turned downward to the Ring that lay in the palm of his hand. He was clearly disturbed by the events that had just taken place, and he seemed changed, as one who had felt evil’s touch for the first time.


	8. Chapter 8

They traveled on towards Buckland, with Frodo enduring an endless number of questions from Merry and Pippin. He gave vague answers to some and did not reply to others, and guilt welled up inside Lily. She knew how they felt, and she was silently pleading that Frodo would give in and tell them his mission. It wasn’t right, shutting them out, after all they had been through together. 

“That Black Rider was looking for something, or someone,” Merry was prodding stubbornly. “Frodo?”

Night had fallen, swallowing the forest in darkness. Fractured beams of moonlight crept through the trees, which loomed ominously over them with jagged limbs. Curls of gray mist were beginning to creep over the ground, signifying that they were getting close to the river. Frodo moved stealthily behind a nearby tree and peered around it into the shadows beyond. However, as Merry came up beside him, he turned slowly and looked him in the eye. His lips parted, as if he were about to answer, when Pippin suddenly said in a harsh whisper, “Get down!”

They all dropped behind the nearest group of shrubs and raised their gazes to the ridge that rose off to their right. A large horse stood there, its Rider too, black against the sky. At last, it turned and descended on the opposite side, cloak billowing. 

“I have to leave the Shire,” said Frodo, turning to Merry once again. “I must get to Bree, Sam and Lily, too.”

“Right,” Merry nodded, “Bucklebury Ferry—follow me!”

Off they went, moving as quickly and quietly as they could. Lily’s eyes were constantly swiveling in all directions, struggling to penetrate the enclosing darkness. A feeling of dread was creeping up inside her, driving her on at an increasingly rapid pace. As it turned out, her fears were not unfounded. 

Out of the shadows sprang a Black Rider, galloping wildly into their midst. A startled cry escaped Lily’s lips as she skidded to a stop. The horse spun to and fro, the hobbits fleeing in various directions. She backed away slowly, eyes wide, terror piercing her heart. 

“Come on!” cried Frodo, grabbing her hand and pulling her after him. 

The Rider’s chilling shrieks pursued them, and Lily cast a frantic glance over her shoulder, but she couldn’t see anything. Just ahead, there was an unexpected slant downward, and both of them fell, tumbling down the hillside. She was finally able to slow her momentum enough to regain control and get back on her feet, and when she saw that he had done the same, they took off again. 

Down, down the slope they went. They were almost to the river now. Lily was just beginning to think that they might make it to the ferry, when suddenly, she was yanked to an abrupt halt. Looking down, she realized that her skirt had caught in some brambles, and she desperately tried to pull it free. Sensing that she was no longer behind him, Frodo stopped and turned, cloak flying. Swiftly, he returned to her side, keeping an eye on the woods behind them. 

“Can you get it free?”

“I’m—trying,” she responded through gritted teeth. 

At that moment, they heard the sound of hooves rapidly approaching.

“Lily—”

There was an angry screech.

At last, she tore it free, and he urged her on ahead of him. The ground leveled out where the thick line of trees ended, and there was the Brandywine River. The others had already reached the ferry and were calling to them frantically. Her heart was pounding so loudly in her ears that she couldn’t hear anything else, and Lily’s feet flew more swiftly than they ever had before. Racing to the end of the pier, she leaped through the air and onto the ferry, where Pippin caught her and steadied her. 

“Run, Frodo!” Sam was yelling at the top of his lungs, and she turned, horrified to see that there was a Black Rider galloping up behind him.

She looked on, helpless, hardly daring to breathe as they drifted farther away from the pier. At the last possible moment, Frodo took flight, clearing the water between them and landing in their midst. He, Sam, and Pippin fell in a heap, and all of them looked as the Black Rider skidded to a halt at the end of the pier. The horse reared and snorted, its Rider screaming, infuriated that it had lost its prey. Turning, the horse galloped away to join two more Black Riders. 

“How far to the nearest crossing?” asked Frodo, disconcerted. 

“Brandywine Bridge,” said Merry, “twenty miles.”

They remained on the ferry for far longer than Lily cared to be, for the presence of the dark water surrounding her on all sides made her quite uncomfortable. And yet, it was preferable to a forest full of Black Riders. She wondered if they would ever be able to escape them. 

It was while they were all confined to this small wooden raft that Frodo finally decided to tell Merry and Pippin about his quest, down to the smallest detail, and Lily learned much about the Ring and its history that she had not previously known. Bilbo’s vanishing and his slowed aging were now explained, as was Gandalf’s involvement. She now regretted doubting his intentions and felt rather silly for doing so. 

“We’ll do whatever we can to help you Frodo,” Merry said earnestly as Pippin nodded in agreement. 

“If we can just get to Bree, Gandalf will join us,” Frodo replied hopefully. “We will have nothing to fear then."


	9. Chapter 9

A single-horse wagon drove by on the cobblestone road, and one of its wheels dropped unexpectedly into a deep puddle. The resulting splash doused Lily with muddy water, and she shuddered. Frodo, who had been leading them through the crowded and rather intimidating streets of Bree, now fell back to her side and allowed Merry to take point. 

“Here,” he said, removing his cloak and offering it to her. 

“Thanks,” she murmured sheepishly, fastening it around her shoulders.

It was beginning to rain as they neared the Prancing Pony, and the steady drizzle swiftly became a heavy downpour. Pulling up the hood of his dark green cloak, Lily felt terribly guilty, for Frodo was now soaked from head to toe. She watched as Sam approached him and offered his own cloak, but Frodo politely refused. It was then that the inn finally came into view, and they eagerly mounted the front steps. The rain was shut out, and they were embraced by warmth. 

Lily breathed a sigh of relief and threw back her hood. Off to their left was a large, smoke-filled room where much talking and rowdy singing could be heard. She was forced to look away from it, however, as they approached the innkeeper, who leaned over the front of his tall wooden desk and smiled down at them. His cheeks were round and red, and his eyes were bright. 

“Good evening little masters, miss,” he added cheerfully with a nod at Lily. “Barliman Butterbur at your service. What can I do for you? If you’re looking for accommodation, we’ve got some nice, cozy, hobbit-sized rooms available. Always proud to cater to Little Folk, Mr. uh…?” He looked expectantly at Frodo.

Hesitating, Frodo replied, “Underhill. My name’s Underhill.”

“Underhill,” repeated Butterbur thoughtfully. 

“We’re friends of Gandalf the Grey. Can you tell him we’ve arrived?”

“Gandalf? Gandalf…” the innkeeper mused. “Oh, yes, I remember—elderly chap, big gray beard, pointy hat!”

Relieved, Frodo smiled and nodded. 

“Not seen him for six months,” Butterbur added.

As suddenly as their hopes had risen, their hearts plummeted. Slowly, Frodo turned to consult the others, his own features riddled with uncertainty. Lily wondered what sort of trouble could have delayed the wizard’s arrival. 

“What do we do now?” whispered Sam worriedly.

Frodo considered for a moment. “We’ll stay the night here, but if he hasn’t arrived by dawn, we must go on.” 

**********

Lily glanced about anxiously as they sat at a table that was much too large for them in the midst of the smoky, dimly lit tavern. Frodo was directly across from her, Sam next to him, and Pippin was beside her, Merry on his other side. She was silently swinging her feet beneath the table as a way to calm her nerves, and Frodo stared cheerlessly down at his drink. Sam was shifting restlessly as he munched on a slice of bread, while Merry and Pippin were happily distracted by their pints of ale. All of them had done their best to freshen up before joining the rest of the patrons, but Lily’s efforts to remove the mud stains from her dress had failed. 

“Sam, he’ll be here,” said Frodo in an effort to appease him. “He’ll come.” 

Sam did not appear to be convinced, and he gazed suspiciously at the Big Folk as they passed by. Lily might have mingled with them if she did not worry that they would ask too many questions, but the fear of Black Riders loomed large in her mind, and so she decided against any interaction with them. Bringing herself out of her own thoughts and back to the present, she realized that Pippin had gone, and Sam was whispering to Frodo, “That fella’s done nothin’ but stare at us since we arrived.”

She glanced over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of the person he was referring to. A tall man wearing a weather-stained cloak and hood sat alone in the corner. He was smoking a pipe, his keen eyes flickering in the firelight. He seemed to be looking directly at them, his gaze penetrating to the depths of her being, and Lily swiftly turned back around. 

“Excuse me,” said Frodo, catching Butterbur’s attention the next time he came near them. The innkeeper paused in his duties and leaned down close. “That man in the corner, who is he?”

Butterbur lowered his voice to a near whisper. “He’s one of them Rangers. Dangerous folk they are, wandering the wilds. What his right name is, I’ve never heard, but round here, he’s known as Strider.” He scurried away, leaving Frodo to contemplate what he had said. 

“Strider,” he repeated thoughtfully. 

“What do you think he wants?” asked Lily. “Do you think he means to make trouble?”

Frodo shook his head. “I don’t know.” 

“Could be a spy,” muttered Sam. 

Suddenly, they became aware of a familiar voice conversing loudly with a group of men who were huddled around listening. 

“Baggins! Sure, I know a Baggins! He’s over there—” Pippin pointed, “Frodo Baggins! He’s my second cousin once removed on his mother’s side.” 

Frodo’s mouth fell open, his eyes widening in horror, and before any of them could move, he had sprung to his feet and raced over to his friend, seizing his arm. “Pippin!"

“Steady on!” cried the Took, turning suddenly.

Ale splashed over both of them as Frodo was flung backwards. Lily, Sam, and Merry could do nothing but watch as he hit the floor, the Ring flying out of his coat pocket. It spun into the air, fire glittering across its golden surface as many pairs of eyes looked on. Instinctively, Frodo reached up with his left hand to catch it, and when it came down, the Ring slipped perfectly onto his finger. He vanished, and instant chaos ensued. 

Lily jumped up from the table, her gazed glued to the spot where he had disappeared as patrons began to talk and shout over one another, trying to figure out what had happened. Some left immediately, disturbed by what they had seen, while others were intrigued by the mystery. Either way, they were receiving far too much unwanted attention. Sam hurried over and reached down for Frodo, only to find the air empty, and Lily now directed her frustrations toward Pippin. He had abandoned his ale and was just climbing down from his stool at the bar when she stormed over to him.

“What were you thinking?” she snapped. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”

He drew back guiltily, obviously regretting what had transpired, and she turned away from him with a huff. Merry was watching them, and he shook his head disappointedly at Pippin as Lily hastened to Sam’s side. 

“Any sign of him?” she inquired anxiously. 

Scanning the room, Sam said nothing for a moment. Then, he stiffened and gave a little cry as he pointed suddenly to the doorway on far side of the room. Peering closely, she saw two figures moving swiftly through the sea of people and heading for the stairs. One was tall and dark, the other most certainly a hobbit. 

“It’s Strider!” she breathed, fighting to keep her voice down. “He’s taking Frodo!”


	10. Chapter 10

The four of them stood quietly in front of the door. Pippin carried a stool against his shoulder, Merry a candlestick with three burning flames, Lily a poker, and Sam nothing but his own fists. Taking deep breaths, they nodded at one another, Sam and Lily taking the lead as they burst through the door. Frodo, who stood near the hearth, stepped back in surprise, and Strider whirled to face them with his sword drawn. 

“Let him go or I’ll have you, longshanks!” 

Relieved to see that it was only hobbits who opposed him, Strider slid his sword back into its sheath. “You have a stout heart, little hobbit, but that will not save you. You can no longer wait for the wizard, Frodo. They’re coming.”

“How do you know about Gandalf?” questioned Frodo defensively. “What do you know of our quest?”

“Much,” answered Strider, “for I am a friend of Gandalf. You must not return to your room tonight. I fear that they will be here soon.”

“The Black Riders?”

“Stay here,” he said, moving to the door. “I will return shortly.”

It shut firmly behind him, and the hobbits looked at each other, stunned by this unexpected turn of events. 

“He’s going to help us?” said Pippin. 

“Don’t be too sure of that yet,” Sam warned. “Gandalf made no mention of this ‘Strider.’"

“Still, he is likely the only person in this place who might be able to save us from the Black Riders,” added Frodo. 

“You’re right,” Lily agreed. “I don’t think we have much of a choice.” 

Glancing at her, he couldn’t stop the smile that was creeping onto his face. His eyes drifted down to the metal rod she still gripped tightly in her hand. “Were you going to knock him over the head with that?”

“That was the plan,” she shrugged. 

“I don’t think you would’ve been able to reach high enough,” said Merry with a grin. 

“Perhaps not,” Lily admitted, tapping the rod lightly against her palm, “but I can certainly reach you, Meriadoc.” 

“Now, now—that won’t be necessary,” he said quickly as Frodo laughed. 

It encouraged her to see him enjoy a moment of happiness, even if it was brief, for there had been a shadow upon him ever since they had left the Shire. 

**********

The rain stopped, and the moon rose shone white against a black sky. Strider had returned and now sat vigilantly by the window, gazing out into the night, his sheathed weapon propped against his shoulder. There was only one bed, but it was wide enough to fit at least three hobbits. Side by side, Sam, Merry, and Pippin were all fast asleep, but Frodo sat on the edge, wide awake. Meanwhile, Lily was piling their blankets on the floor beside the hearth, where she would be spending what was left of the evening hours. 

All was quiet, almost dreadfully so, until they heard the faint pounding of hooves. They soon stopped, and silence fell once more. She glanced up at Frodo, and there was a knowing look in his eye. Uneasily, she took her place on the floor and stared through the glass panes, where raindrops had trickled down and formed strange patterns.

Suddenly, there was a commotion somewhere above them, muffled sounds of things being tossed to and fro. Then came the screams, terrible, ear-splitting shrieks that unpleasantly reminded Lily of their flight to Bucklebury Ferry. She shuddered as Sam, Merry, and Pippin bolted upright.

“What are they?” asked Frodo in a near whisper. 

“They were once men,” Strider answered solemnly, “great Kings of Men. Then Sauron the Deceiver gave them nine Rings of Power. Blinded by their greed, they took them without question, one by one falling into darkness. Now, they are slaves to his will. They are the Nazgul—Ringwraithes—neither living nor dead. At all times they feel the presence of the Ring, drawn to the power of the One. They will never stop hunting you.” 

None of them said anything in reply, for they were too horrified to speak. Once again, they perceived the sound of hooves, retreating this time. Lily did not doubt, however, that they would be hearing them again soon. They could not hide in Bree forever. 

Reluctantly, she slid under the blankets and turned to face the fire. There was a chill running down her spine that its warmth could not chase away. As she gazed into the flickering flames, Lily pondered all that they had experienced since leaving home. Adventures beyond the borders of the Shire had proven to be far more perilous than she had ever imagined, but she comforted herself with the thought that they would soon reach Rivendell. 

The sound of Frodo’s and Strider’s soft voices reached her ears, though she was becoming too drowsy to discern what they were saying. The steady crackling of the flames was lulling her into dream, and soon, Lily was sound asleep.


	11. Chapter 11

When they were preparing to depart early the following morning, Lily insisted upon returning Frodo’s cloak to him, but he refused to accept it. Eventually, she found herself sitting at an empty table near the door of the inn, waiting for the others. The green cloak was once again fastened about her shoulders, along with her guilt. October had arrived, and the air was growing colder. It would be unwise to travel without additional coverings, but Frodo was proving to be quite stubborn regarding this particular matter. 

Startled from her thoughts, Lily glanced up as Strider approached her. Earlier, he had been speaking quietly with Butterbur, who was providing them with fresh supplies. Now, he loomed over her, tall and dark, a blue hobbit-sized cloak in his hands. 

“This is for you,” he said simply, offering it to her. 

Amazed that he had bothered to notice her rather minor predicament, Lily received it gratefully. “Thank you.”

He nodded, a glimmer of warmth in his eyes that she had not seen before. Just then, the rest of the hobbits arrived, their stomachs full and their hearts eager to leave this vulnerable place behind. Their packs were stuffed to the brim with newly replenished rations, their skins refilled with fresh water. 

“Let us not delay any longer,” said Strider. “Many miles of rough terrain lie between us and Rivendell, and I fear that we have tarried here too long already.”

**********

The wilds beyond Bree proved to be far more difficult than those that surrounded the Shire. However, the most miserable was certainly the one that they spent crossing the marshes, during which Lily and her friends were nearly eaten alive by midges. Their struggles were eased slightly by the company of their new baggage-pony, whom Sam had decided to call Bill. The poor thing had seemed glad to escape Bree, despite the fact that it meant carrying most of their belongings. 

Strider moved surely and steadily amidst the dense undergrowth, and Lily found it difficult to keep up with him, her skirt and cloak often becoming tangled in thorns and branches. Still, she pressed on, though her feet were growing very tired and sore. She continued to refrain from speaking of what had happened with Frodo after their escape from Farmer Maggot, though there was no doubt that something had changed between them. Ever since then, he had behaved differently towards her—more reserved, more conscious. 

And yet, even whilst they were pursued by the Nazgul, he had refused to leave her side. In Bree, he had insisted upon shielding her from the rain and cold. All of this seemed important to Lily, but she wondered if its significance was only in her imagination. Was he not simply behaving as he always had done? Even when they were children, Frodo had been fiercely protective of her, for she was younger and smaller than he. 

Now, even as he walked several paces ahead of her, she felt her heart flutter, and she silently scolded herself. What was she thinking, feeling this way about him? It was a foolish idea doomed to end in failure and the loss of her best friend. Of this, Lily was certain. He couldn’t possibly feel the same way about her, could he? 

“This was the great watchtower of Amon Sul,” Strider announced suddenly, bringing her back to the present. “We shall rest here tonight.” 

Lifting up her eyes, Lily saw a great mound standing against the pale gray sky. Its sides were steep, rocky, and uneven, a ring of stonework encircling its head like a crown. There was no watchtower anymore, only the dilapidated remains of a once grand structure. 

**********

After a precipitous and rather unpleasant climb, they stopped and made camp beneath an overhang of rock near the top of the hill. Utterly exhausted from their days of long travel, the hobbits collapsed onto the ground and sat with their backs pressed against the solid wall behind them. Kneeling down, Strider spread before him five sheathed daggers.

“These are for you,” he said, handing one to each hobbit. “Keep them close. I’m going to have a look around. Stay here.” 

His last command was firm, and Lily had no intention of disobeying it. With Strider gone, she suddenly felt exposed and vulnerable, despite the blade that now lay across her lap. Pippin gazed uneasily at his, as if he didn’t know quite what to do with it, but Merry had already drawn his sword and was clearly fascinated by it. Sam considered his weapon for several moments before laying it aside and beginning to rummage for food in his pack. Frodo had already hooked his sword onto his belt and was now standing near the cliff’s edge, looking out over the vast lands that lay beyond. 

Darkness was falling swiftly, preventing them from seeing much of anything outside of their camp. It was a starless night, shrouded by thick clouds and gray mists that curled near the base of the hill. Lily shivered, pulling her cloak more tightly about her as a sharp wind cut beneath the rock. Strider had not returned, and she was becoming anxious. The others spoke quietly nearby, dividing up rations amongst themselves. 

She imagined that she heard hooves, saw the black robes billowing, and gazed into the eyes of the Nazgul’s horse, eyes that burned like fire. 

“Lily.”

She jumped, her eyes wide and her heart pounding as she looked up at Frodo. His brow was furrowed in concern, and there was a plate in his hand.

“I brought you supper,” he explained, glancing down at the slice of bread and the assortment of dried fruits. 

“Oh—thank you,” she stammered, accepting the food with trembling fingers. 

Frodo sat down beside her as she began to eat, and it was clear that he sensed her distraction. “Are you all right?”

She glanced at him, unsure of how to respond. Would he think she was a coward? 

“Lily?" he said again. 

“I’m sorry,” she answered finally, avoiding his gaze. “I just…can’t seem to relax after what happened at the ferry. I can’t shake the feeling that those Ringwraiths are still out there, watching, waiting.” 

“There is a feeling of disquiet in the air,” Frodo admitted. “I have thought so ever since we arrived here.” 

“I hope Strider doesn’t wander too far,” she murmured, staring into the blackness surrounding them. 

He was silent, pondering, and it was some time before either of them spoke again. Finally, Lily gathered her courage and looked at him, hoping that she would not be overstepping some unseen boundary with what she was about to say. 

“Frodo, I…never properly thanked you for what you did, back at the ferry I mean. You nearly didn’t make it because of me.” 

He smiled softly. “And I would do it again.”

She hoped that in the darkness he couldn’t see her blush.

“Besides,” he added, “I owed you.” 

“For what?” 

“On the Road, when we hid in that tree,” he explained, “if you had not stopped me, I might have put the Ring on.” 

“What was it like,” she asked at length, “in Bree, when it slipped onto your finger? What happened when you disappeared?” 

“I would rather not speak of it here. Perhaps when we are somewhere more pleasant.”

The words had hardly left his lips when Sam suddenly called to them from the cliff’s edge, “Mr. Frodo, come quick! There’s something down there!”

They stood and hurried over to him, peering down into the mists below. Three black figures were moving towards them, passing as silently as shadows. Drawing his sword, Frodo ushered them higher up the path.

“Go!” he cried urgently. 

Feet flying, they raced to the crown of the hill, to Weathertop, where they prepared to make their final stand against the servants of the Enemy.


	12. Chapter 12

Back to back they stood, swords drawn, their eyes darting frantically in all directions as a dreadful silence fell. Silver moonlight pierced the clouds and spilled over Amon Sul, but its presence provided no comfort, for they desired nothing but to hide. Lily’s gaze was fixed upon the archways at the edges of the ruins. She saw only darkness and gray mist swirling beyond them, but she could sense evil approaching. 

Pippin was pressed against her left shoulder, Frodo on her right, Sam and Merry at her back. Not a word was spoken, their breaths held. Out of the shadows, five forms emerged, shrouded in black robes. Their booted feet thudded rhythmically as they drew near, armored hands baring jagged blades. 

“Back, you devils!” cried Sam, lunging forward, but he was easily tossed aside. 

Merry and Pippin, too, were thrown to the ground, where they lay trembling. Overcome by fear, Lily drew back, her limbs becoming stiff and cold. Frodo was quaking, and his hand was moving towards his pocket. She could do nothing about it, for she was too petrified to move. Unable to turn away, she looked on in horror as he slipped the Ring onto his finger. 

There was a muffled cry, and the leader of the Nazgul gave a terrible shriek as something tore the edge of his cloak. He stabbed downward with his blade, and when he withdrew it, a small sword appeared seemingly out of thin air and clattered against the stone. Simultaneously, Strider leaped from the shadows with a fierce cry, wielding his blade and a firebrand. Lily paid no attention to the battle that ensued, however, her sword falling from her hand as she moved through the maze of figures blocking her path. 

Frodo was on the ground, having removed the Ring from his finger. His scream filled her ears as she raced toward him, heart pounding. She dropped to her knees at his side, her gaze immediately finding the wound to his left shoulder, where the Ringwraith’s blade had pierced him. 

“Oh, Lily…” he whimpered, the Ring clutched tightly to his chest. 

Desperately, she took his hand in hers, not knowing how else to help him. “Hold on, Frodo,” she pleaded. “Hold on. Everything’s going to be all right. You’ll see.” 

His eyes were fixed on hers, his chest heaving. He couldn’t speak; it was difficult enough to breathe. Lily hardly noticed the others gathering around. Her world was hanging in the balance, and never in all her life had she been so afraid. 

“Strider!” she heard Sam cry, as if from across a great distance. “Help him, Strider!”

“He’s been stabbed by a Morgul blade. This is beyond my skill to heal. He needs Elvish medicine.”

Frodo’s hand was pulled away as Strider lifted him in his arms, and all Lily could think of was how cold it had been. He carried him swiftly back to their camp, the hobbits following anxiously at his heels. 

“Get a fire going,” said Strider. “He must be kept warm. We will face no further trouble tonight, but we must leave at dawn. There is no rest to be found here.”

**********

Early the following morning, they departed and began the last leg of their journey to Rivendell with urgent speed. Though some of his pain had subsided, Frodo was unable to walk and was forced to ride the pony. His skin was pale, and there was a distant look in his eyes, as if he were gazing upon a realm that was invisible to the rest of them. 

“Is he going to die?” Pippin had asked the previous night after Frodo had drifted into an uneasy sleep. 

“He’s passing into the shadow world,” Strider had answered darkly. “He will soon become a wraith like them.”

Those were the words that haunted Lily with each step that she took. She could not bring herself to consider the possibility that she might lose him. Sam was leading the pony, but she was walking alongside it, and she looked up at Frodo.

“You can’t give up,” she whispered imploringly. “You can’t.” 

He turned, gazing down at her silently. Lily was not certain how aware he was of the world around him, but the fact that he had responded at all gave her some small comfort. 

**********

They traveled on for many more days, each of which felt like eternity. At times, Frodo’s condition seemed to be improving, but at others, usually after nightfall, he would sink back into a state of oblivion. One evening, Strider had gone out in search of athelas, or kingsfoil, as Sam called it, and it had succeeded in temporarily staving off the icy fingers that sought to steal Frodo from the realm of the living. Despite this, Strider worried that they would not reach Rivendell in time. He attempted to conceal his fears for the hobbits’ sakes, but the concern in his eyes and the furrow of his brow betrayed him. 

On the day that they were to come to the Ford of Bruinen, however, their fortunes changed. They had risked traveling on the road to in order to cover greater distances, but now they were forced to take shelter behind a group of shrubs as the sound of hooves emerged behind them. With a steady clip-clop, they continued to grow louder until a white horse came around the bend. Astride it was a tall man with golden hair and gleaming armor. So striking was he that it did not take Lily long to discern that he was, in fact, not a man—he was an Elf. 

He reined in his horse, as if sensing their presence, and Strider sprang to his feet, racing to meet him. The hobbits followed uncertainly as the two exchanged greetings in a language they could not understand. Strider related to the Elf, who was called Glorfindel, the events that had taken place at Weathertop, and the Elf confirmed that Frodo’s presence was indeed a danger to them. 

“The Nine follow your trail,” he said gravely. “They are not far behind. There is little time to reach the ford, and I fear that you will not if you continue traveling as you are now.” 

“What are you suggesting?” questioned Strider. 

“Let the Ring-bearer take my horse. Asfaloth will carry him safely across the Ford of Bruinen.”

“Are you mad?” Sam exclaimed. “How is he supposed to manage a horse of that size? He can barely stand, let alone ride at that speed!” 

Lily was not at all fond of the suggestion. “You would send him out alone against the Nine?”

“Glorfindel is right,” Strider answered calmly. “It is the only hope we have.”

“I will not leave my friends behind.”

Startled, they turned at the sound of Frodo’s voice. It was frail but determined. 

“If you remain with them, your friends will surely die,” the Elf responded firmly, “but if you go on alone, the Nine will no longer have reason to give them chase. It is the Ring they seek.” 

Frodo was hunched forward over the pony’s neck, and he was silent as he considered Glorfindel’s words. “Then I will go,” he said at last. 

Dismayed, Lily’s mouth opened in protest, but she was not given a chance speak. Striding forward, the Elf lifted Frodo from the pony’s back and placed him in the saddle of his own horse. As he began to shorten the stirrups, she turned anxiously to Strider, but he said nothing to prevent what was happening. Frodo blinked heavily as he struggled to ward off the shadows closing in around him. Slowly, he looked back at her, his eyes proclaiming his remorse. He did not regret the things he had said, rather, the things he had left unsaid. 

Hooves thundered behind them. “Noro lim, Asfaloth!” cried Glorfindel, sending the horse away at great speed. Frodo’s cloak billowed behind him as he clung to the stallion’s long white mane. At that moment, the Nine rounded the bend, and Strider ushered the hobbits off the road, or they might have been trampled.

“Fly,” the Elf murmured quietly, as if sending up a prayer for salvation beyond all hope. 

The earth trembled, and the forest shrank when the Black Riders passed them by. Lily gazed despairingly after them, knowing that only a miracle could spare Frodo the wrath of the Nine.


	13. Chapter 13

They ran until Lily’s lungs burned and her legs ached. The Elf’s feet hardly seemed to touch the ground as he left them increasingly farther behind. Strider was closest on his heels, but the hobbits were lagging, their small strides unable to keep up with those of the Big Folk. The ford was in sight but seemed impossibly far away. Distance had fused the Nine into a single black mass, moving across the land like a dark cloud. 

Frodo was out of sight and out of reach, but the fact that the Nazgul were still in pursuit told Lily that he had not yet been caught. There was still hope. The sound of running water was drawing nearer, trees rushing by on either side. The sun beat down on them, but its warmth was swept away by the chill October wind. 

At last, they saw the Ringwraiths come to a halt—Frodo had crossed the ford. Now they were gaining ground, but Lily could not discern what was happening. There was a white shape on the other side of the water, a small cloaked figure perched on its back. There was a foul voice on the air, accompanied by harsh laughter that sent a shiver down Lily’s spine. As the scene before them came into focus, she saw the Elven horse rise on its hind legs, and Frodo drew his sword.

“By Elbereth and Luthien the Fair, you shall have neither the Ring nor me!” 

Lily’s heart leaped into her throat. The Nine were crossing the ford, their leader extending his hand. Frodo’s blade shattered and fell uselessly from his hand. There seemed to be nothing left to stop them, when suddenly, there came the sound of rushing water. It was distant at first, growing steadily louder until suddenly, a flood came roaring around the bend. 

Caught in the midst of the ford, the Nazgul had no means of escape. They attempted to turn back, but Glorfindel had reached the crossing. He lifted up his blade, which shone with a blinding white light, and the Nine fled from him, back into the path of the oncoming deluge. It seemed to Lily, as she skidded to a halt and looked on in awe, that the water took on the shapes of horses and riders, trampling the Ringwraiths and swallowing them up as they were carried away down the river. 

The Elf lowered his sword, its light fading, and she saw Frodo fall from the saddle. The water had calmed, and Strider and Glorfindel plunged across it with the hobbits not far behind them. 

“No,” Lily murmured, wondering if her worst fears were about to come true.

**********

Two days had passed, and still, Frodo had not awoken. Having found him alive but unconscious on the bank of the river, Glorfindel had borne him swiftly to the House of Elrond, where he was now being personally tended, day and night, by perhaps the most powerful healer in all of Middle-earth. Rivendell was every bit as magnificent and breathtaking as Bilbo had always claimed, but even here, Lily could find no peace while her best friend was hovering on the brink between life and death. Best friend—was that all that he was? Now that he stood upon the threshold where he might cross over into a place unreachable, she was finally forced to admit that he was far more. 

All these years, she had never realized it, and now that she had, it was too late. Whether or not he had felt even remotely the same way about her, Lily was not certain. Yet, there was something, something he had wanted to say but couldn’t. The Nine had seen to that. 

She spent most of her time at his side, accompanied by Sam and sometimes Gandalf. Yes, the wizard had finally arrived, too late in her mind, which she continued to hold against him. However, when she could bear it no longer, Lily would step outside and listen to the sound of the waterfalls. Sam’s reassurances did nothing but frustrate her, and sometimes, all she wanted was to be alone. Every time she entered that room, she wanted to find Frodo awake and smiling, the horrors of Weathertop forgotten. Instead, she sat at his bedside and held his cold, lifeless hand. 

It was now the third night they had spent in the House of Elrond, and Lily stood beside the stone barrier that overlooked the valley below. The falls gleamed like silver in the starlight, and she could not help but gaze in awe upon the splendor of Imladris. Her only wish was that Frodo could see it too. 

“Lily?”

Startled, she turned and saw Pippin standing behind her. He was timid and seemed uncertain as to whether or not he should be approaching her at all. Few words had passed between them since the incident at the Prancing Pony, and Lily regretted now the harsh things she had said to him. 

“Are you all right?” he asked finally. 

It was only then that she became intensely aware of the tears trickling silently down her cheeks. Hastily, she wiped them away. “Yes, i…” Lily stopped and shook her head, deciding to change the subject. “What are you doing out here so late, Pippin?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he answered with a cautious smile, “but I have a feeling that we’re both here for the same reason.”

She swallowed heavily, knowing exactly what—who—he was referring to. 

“I was just visiting Frodo,” Pippin went on, “to see if, well…anything had changed.” 

There was a long pause, her gaze drifting to the ground. 

“It’s not a secret, you know.”

Her head jerked up. “What?”

“Sam, Merry, and I—we all know,” said Pippin.

Lily could feel her cheeks heating up with embarrassment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“We’ve known for a while now, before, I think, either of you did.” 

She stared at him, utterly speechless, but there was no clever smirk or glimmer of amusement in his eyes. 

“He cared for you, Lily, though I’m not sure he ever told you how much.”

Fresh tears sprang to her eyes, and she turned away, covering her mouth with her hand in an effort to stifle her sobs. Hesitantly, Pippin came closer and laid a tentative hand on her shoulder. Her strong exterior crumbled, and Lily fell against his chest, allowing her tears to flow freely at last. Caught off guard, he stiffened at first, but his surprise quickly melted into empathy, and he embraced her.

“I can’t lose him, Pippin,” she murmured in a trembling voice. “I don’t know what I would do without him.” 

**********

The third morning dawned, finding Lily in exactly the same place as she had been the night before. She had returned to her room only to sleep, and after hastily consuming a small breakfast that morning, she had gone immediately to Frodo’s side, only to discover that he was still in the void of unconsciousness. The wizard’s eyes had followed her from the corner of the room as she had left once again, more despondent than ever. For a long while, she paced to and fro, fear and dread welling up inside her. 

“Please, Frodo, wake up,” she had pleaded over and over again, to no avail.

Looking out over the valley once again, Lily stood in grave silence, waiting. Suddenly, there was a commotion behind her, originating from the stone paths that wove in and amongst Rivendell’s elegant structures. As if in a dream, she turned, and there, laughing gleefully as golden leaves fluttered about him, was Frodo. Merry and Pippin were leaping for joy and embracing him, Sam standing by with an exuberant grin. The color had returned to Frodo’s cheeks, and his eyes shone. 

Even as she watched, tears of joy and relief formed in Lily’s eyes. Pippin was speaking to Frodo, and presently, he pointed in her direction. In that moment, her heart stopped, for Frodo had turned, his strikingly blue eyes meeting hers. They seemed to see straight through her, and much was said in a wordless moment. Slowly, he began to walk towards her, and she towards him. Both of them broke into a run and met in the middle. 

Lily was caught up in his embrace, her feet lifted off the ground as he spun her around. They were laughing and completely oblivious to the world around them. When he set her down, however, Frodo grimaced, and her brow furrowed in concern. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said quickly, her eyes darting to his wounded shoulder. 

“Don’t be,” he replied with a smile. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.” 

Her heart thudded louder. “You have?”

Frodo took a breath, gathering his courage. “Lily, there’s something I need to tell you. I was a fool not to say it sooner.” 

She stared at him in stunned silence, hardly believing what was happening. He had become quite serious now. 

“All our lives, we’ve been friends. We grew up together, laughed and cried together. You have always been there, ever since I can remember, and I suppose I took that for granted. Many years passed before I realized that my desire was for something more than friendship. Worse, once I realized it, I was afraid to admit it. I feared that I would lose you, that things would never be the same between us. But now I know that time is too short for me to continue suppressing my feelings for you. Why not today, when I do not know if I will have tomorrow?”

Lily smiled, knowing well what he was referring to. "If not now, when?" she had said, just one day before they had left the Shire to begin their journey, the magnitude of which neither of them could have anticipated. 

“If I am alone in this, please tell me,” Frodo entreated, “and I will trouble you no further.” 

“You are not alone,” she replied quietly, meeting his gaze. “It seems that you have shared the same fears as I, but I will harbor them no longer. I am yours, Frodo Baggins, if you will have me.” 

He reached out slowly, his fingers brushing gently across her cheek as he leaned in. Lily closed her eyes, feeling his breath against her skin as he closed the remaining distance between them, kissing her softly. Moments later, Frodo drew back slightly, ensuring that he hadn’t gone too far, but she wanted more. Her hands, which were resting against his chest, slid up and around his neck as she pulled him back in. When at last they broke the kiss, they remained close, gazing intently into each other’s eyes. 

“What is it?” he inquired, seeing her smile. 

“I just…can’t believe you’re here,” she murmured. “When I thought that I might lose you, I couldn’t breathe.” 

“I’m here now,” he assured her. “We’ve brought the Ring to Rivendell, and now, we might finally have some peace.”


	14. Chapter 14

Peace they did have for a while, though it was only a short while. They had believed their joy at being reunited and at last admitting their hidden feelings for one another to be unsurpassable, but the discovery of an old friend proved both of them wrong. As they roamed about the valley of Imladris, they happened upon a hobbit who sat alone on a bench. His large, hairy feet, which did not reach the ground, swung to and fro as he thought deeply, face lowered towards the pages of the book that lay open on his lap. 

Frodo stopped short, his grip on Lily’s hand tightening considerably. Following his gaze, she spotted the old hobbit sitting nearby, amidst the falling leaves. White was his hair now, gleaming in the afternoon sun. 

“Bilbo?” called Frodo, as if he couldn’t quite believe it. 

“Frodo, my lad!”

Laying aside his writings, Bilbo stood, awaiting Frodo with open arms as he scampered toward him like a small child. Warmth swelled inside Lily’s heart, and she smiled, observing the reunion in silence. She dared not intrude, though her own excitement at seeing Bilbo again threatened to bubble over. He had aged significantly, despite the fact that only a month had passed since they had last seen him. She could only assume now that his lingering youth had been a boon bestowed by the presence of the Ring. 

Presently, he glanced past Frodo, his eyes meeting hers. They were sharp and penetrating but sparkling with a kind warmth that swiftly brought a smile back to her lips. 

“Dear Lily!” he remarked with a note of surprise. “Though the path is riddled with perils and all manner of dark creatures, it seems that even these have failed to part the two of you. I should not be surprised, I suppose. Both of you roamed the hills of the Shire and dreamed of adventure ever since you were children. Well, your wishes have finally come true, though not at all in the way you expected, I imagine.” 

“No,” Frodo admitted, exchanging a fond glance with Lily, “not quite.”

The twinkle in his eye and her flushing cheeks were not lost on the old hobbit, and he smiled. 

“Come!” he said cheerfully. “Tell me the tale of your journey in its entirety, and don’t leave anything out! You never know what might make the perfect rhyme.”

**********

Days passed, and soon, Lily forgot the Ring, the Nine, and the Shadow in the East. It was not that her memory was wiped clean of their existence; rather, she no longer considered them to be an immediate threat. Their time in Imladris was spent feasting and listening to the songs of the Elves, which often carried them away into strange but pleasant dreams. Many a night, Lily and Frodo took moonlight walks alone, admiring the brilliant starlight and the magnificence of the Elves. Long had she desired to gaze upon their splendor with her own eyes, and now, that wish had been made a reality. 

“Is Rivendell everything you hoped it would be?” he asked one evening as they followed the stone wall that lined the valley.

“Everything and more,” she replied, her gaze sweeping over the falls. “I don’t want to leave.”

“Perhaps we shan’t,” he said quietly. “If the burden passes into more capable hands and we are freed to do as we please, why not stay? Bilbo is here, and there is much to learn from the Elves. I could spend a lifetime in these halls and never grow weary of them.” 

Lily smiled softly, glad that he shared her sentiments. “What of the others? Do you think they will return to the Shire?”

Stopping, Frodo pondered. “I don’t know,” he answered at length. 

“I should miss them terribly if they did.” 

“As would I, but the decision is theirs to make.” 

“Frodo!”

Both of them turned as Gandalf’s deep voice called from the nearest doorway. 

“You must get some rest,” he said firmly. “The Council will commence early in the morning, and you must not be late. You are the Ring-bearer, after all.” 

“Just a moment,” Frodo returned, and the wizard withdrew.

When he turned to face her once more, she crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “What?” he inquired, amused. 

“Why wasn’t I invited?” she responded, annoyed. “I was there, and so were Sam, Merry, and Pippin!”

“I’m sure Elrond has his reasons.” There was a mischievous twinkle in Frodo’s eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. 

Lily’s mouth fell open, her brow creasing in mock disgust. “My, you’re as satisfied as Fatty Bolger after he’s consumed a flock of pheasants!”

“I am not!” he protested, bursting into laughter as she turned sharply on her heel and stalked away. 

“Your breath is wasted, Frodo!” she called over her shoulder. “I am no longer listening.”

“Lily!”

He pursued her to where she stood by the low wall, her back facing him. She leaned forward, elbows propped against the stone as she ignored him. Pausing, Frodo smiled. 

“Fair maiden of Imladris,” he began again in a voice as enticing as he could muster, “lady of the valley and the wood, sun and moon pale in light of your beauty. Over hills of green, you dance and glide like a fairy. How my eyes are enchanted by the sight! Emerald is your gaze, and scarlet is your hair, as dazzling as the Amaryllis flowers that bloom each spring. To you I look to ward off winter’s chill.”

Silence fell between them. Slowly, Lily turned, raising her eyes to meet his.   
“Do you mean to mock me?” she questioned uncertainly. 

“Far from it.” Frodo had become serious again, a quiet sincerity in his look.

Her expression softened further. “Did you…did you mean that? What you said?”

“Every word.”

In two steps, Lily reached him, pressing a passionate kiss to his lips. She drew back with a laugh. “In jest I dealt with you, and you answered with poetry! I am a lucky woman indeed.”

Smiling, he took her hand and raised it gently to his lips. “Luckier am I.”

Lily returned his smile as he turned and walked back to his room. It mattered not that Elrond had overlooked her invitation. After all, she was going anyway, invited or not.


End file.
